Fumbling in Love
by MissKiku
Summary: Little moments between Yoosung and MC. Third person, second person, whichever, whatever. Mainly fluff for the actual puppy. Each chapter is discontinuous with the others.
1. Fumbling, Stumbling in Love

**Because I love Yoosung...**

 **Have some fluff.**

* * *

She rested back against the couch, listening with a smile to Yoosung's gentle humming. The kettle boiled away in the kitchen, drowning out the clattering of mugs and that cheerful tune she couldn't place. She stretched her legs out along the couch and glanced towards the kitchen. He'd stopped humming.

"How's it going, Yoosung?" she called, tilting her head.

Something crashed loudly in the kitchen, making her jump. "A-Ah, yeah!" came Yoosung's reply. "I thought I had a clean mug somewhere…" he trailed off into dejected mumbling. She could hear the sad pout in his voice. It was hard to hold back a smile.

"You don't have to make me tea, you know," she said. "It's getting late, anyway."

"No, I said I would– found it!"

She chuckled to herself and settled deeper into the couch. Moments later, a brightly smiling Yoosung emerged with a steaming mug of tea.

"Here you go!" he beamed and handed over the warm mug. "I would've liked to make you a coffee but I ran out…" He met her eyes expectantly, pursing his lips and waiting for her response.

She couldn't help but find it cute. "You'll just have to make me one next time."

"Next time…!" He grinned, his eyes scrunching as his smile reached them. His cheeks dusted pink, glowing with warmth, with happiness at her words. He sank into the couch beside her, still smiling.

Her lips pulled up to match his smile. She took a tentative sip of her tea, relishing the warmth. "It's nice," she said. "Thank you."

He breathed an embarrassed laugh. "I… feel really happy hearing you say that. Now I want to make you tea all the time!"

She laughed into the mug. He was just as cute, just as affectionate as he was in the chatrooms. The only difference was…

Her eyes drifted to his left eye, to the iris darkened and scarred. It didn't bother her. Not if he didn't mind it, not if it didn't bother him.

But she knew.

She'd seen him, caught sight of him when he thought she wasn't looking. He'd raise a hand up, pressing his fingers over his eye as if testing it. Other times, he'd drop his head, his laughter, his smile fading.

And then there were the headaches…

When it didn't bother him, when he didn't hide that it was affecting him, everything was the same. Except… they'd only kissed once. Again, that wouldn't have bothered her so much if she didn't know it was bothering _him._

It wasn't like there hadn't been any opportunities, after all. They'd gone on dates. Walks through the park, dates to the cinema, to cafés… and yet, all they'd done was cuddle and hold hands.

He'd embrace her from time to time, holding her tightly, nuzzling deep into her neck until she could feel him smile against her skin. But when it came to kissing…

She glanced at him as she pressed her mouth to the mug, ready to take another sip. His eyes were on her lips, his own slightly parted. His shot his eyes up to hers before turning away hurriedly. A hot flush crawled up his neck.

She wondered if it was the tea making her feel so warm.

She lowered the mug to the coffee table and turned to him. A bead of determination grew inside her. She shifted, the couch depressing beneath her, and moved closer to him, as if to snuggle. He drew up his arm, welcoming her closer. But she didn't lower her head, didn't press it to his shoulder as he'd hoped. Instead, she met his confused gaze.

He swallowed thickly. She followed the motion with her eyes, purposely and slowly tracing them down his throat before raising them to his eyes.

"Yoosung…" she lowered her voice, saying his name as a sigh. They were so close, faces inches apart, so his name danced as a breath across his cheek.

He stiffened. She felt the motion, saw the tightening of his jaw, and flushed.

She'd blown it.

Her eyes dropped, hands clenching on her lap, as she quickly backed away. Heat creeped across her cheeks, burning across to her ears as her heart sank.

"Ah–" he startled at her movement, his hand catching hers. She paused. Felt the warm, gentle touch of his fingers as they melded with hers. Slowly, she turned to face him.

His eyes swam with emotions. They'd darkened, deepened with something she knew they were both feeling. They settled on her, holding a thread of desire that clouded over his fear.

It was now or never. "Yoosung… I…"

"Can I kiss you…?"

Her heart jumped at his words. It fluttered in her chest like a swarm of butterflies, buzzing, buzzing like electricity through her. She blinked and ran his words over again in her head.

Did he just ask to–

"I want to…" he continued, gazing deeply at her, into her eyes. They were so dark, pupils blown like she'd never seen. He shifted closer. His breath, so warm, so soft, brushed her lips. She could barely nod, barely manage the movement. Her eyes shut as he closed the gap between them.

It was nothing like last time. It wasn't a simple press of his lips against hers, forceful and all at once.

It was slow. Tentative, gentle, as if testing this new, foreign ground between them. A soft caress of their lips on each other. He shivered at the touch. His mind was running crazily and soaring all at once. He wanted to memorise this feeling. The press of her lips against his, soft and tasting strangely bitter from the tea. Heat sparked through him, but this gentle kiss wasn't enough to douse the burning flame inside her. She pressed her lips harder against his. He backed up slightly, a gasp fluttering from him, but still keeping his mouth against hers. She felt his gasp, felt that staggered intake of air, and knew she had him.

She snaked a hand around his neck and held him in place. He melted against her. All at once, he softened, stopped backing away, and indulged. His lips moved to match hers. They pushed, pulled, tugged at hers, following her in this fumbled dance of theirs. Her fingers trailed up the back of his neck before fluttering down again. The touch edged him on. One of his hands caught her hips. She took that moment to kiss him harder, pressing him back into the couch, and shifted so she was straddling him. She dug her knees into the couch on either side of his legs, keeping a distance between their bodies.

They didn't have to go _there._ Not yet. She drew his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a gentle nip, a firm tug. She sucked it, running her tongue along it, and was met with a heavy moan.

She wanted to hear _that_ again.

Instead, their lips suddenly parted. She was drawn into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her right up against his chest. Rapid breaths, hot and staggered, panted by her ears. His neck, and breath, felt so warm.

She chuckled, the laughter in her chest reverberating against him. "Too much?"

He gave a strangled noise against her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine. Giving his neck a final stroke, a final dance of her fingers across his skin, she pulled away and sat beside him. His cheeks had blown cherry red. He didn't meet her eyes but kept holding her hand.

She smiled. "I should go."

He was still catching his breath. He nodded, though his eyes remained dazed.

She held back a laugh and leant closer. Her mouth brushed his ear. He tensed, but this time she knew it wasn't in distaste. "There's always next time…"

The tight gasp by her ear told her enough.

Oh, how she loved him.

* * *

 **Just felt the need to write a little fluff of my favourite RFA boy. I'd written too much angst today and needed something better to cheer me up. What better to do that then Yoosung?**

 **Hope you liked it!**


	2. Salt and Kisses

**Tried my hand at a Yoosung/Reader style. Enjoy!**

* * *

Rain pattered against the windows as you snuggled deeper into the couch. Yoosung shifted beside you, tugging the fuzzy blanket further up over you both. It was a warm, lazy evening in his apartment that you decided to spend watching a scary movie.

A brilliant idea, it turned out to be.

Yoosung was more than eager to cuddle right up against you, cradling a bowl of chips in his lap. You snatched another chip as he jolted on cue with a crash from the TV. His eyes were wide, glued to the screen as the action unfolded. He had no idea you were more entertained by watching his reactions.

He hadn't been kidding when he said he couldn't stand horror. You stifled a snort, holding back bubbles of laughter in your chest as a faint whimper escaped his lips. He was so cute, he didn't even know.

You'd just turned to glance at him, barely angling your head towards him, when a scream tore from him. He lurched all at once, grabbing hold of the closest thing to him, which just happened to be _you._ Arms wrapped around your shoulders, the bowl knocked to the floor in a flurry of chips and salt, and a soft, sudden press of lips against the corner of your mouth.

So sudden that when he tore away you could hardly believe it happened. His arms still around you, Yoosung stayed close. So close. You could smell the salt from the chips on him, or was that you? Your breaths mingled. Warm and sharp like a gasp as your eyes met. There was no need for a blanket now. The room warmed between you. Heat rose to your face. His eyes shot to your lips that you knew were chapped and dry. On instinct, your tongue wet your lips, collecting a touch of salt.

"U-Um…" You felt his words against your mouth. He was so close, inches from you, yet neither wanted to back away. "C-Can… I kiss you…?"

A simple question that had your answer rise in your throat before you could think. "Y-Yes! Of course!" His embarrassed energy set you alight like a bundle nerves.

He didn't waste any time closing the gap between you. His eyebrows knitted together, eyes again drifting to your lips and you no longer cared that you would taste like salt.

It was gentle, a feather-light touch that lasted but a second. A second that had your heart soaring and your fingers clenching into his shirt. Then it was over. He pulled back, face so red, a burning, burning crimson that reached his ears.

His embarrassment was obvious but as he met your eyes, as he lingered so close you could taste his breath, there was something else. A newfound confidence, a newfound desire. He shifted, rising up from the couch, pressing closer to you. Pressing another, brief kiss to your lips.

You settled into it, into another sweet touch, before he pulled away again. Your eyes fluttered open. Confusion couldn't even register as he kissed you again. And again. He peppered your lips with gentle but firm kisses. Arms loosened around your shoulders as he shifted closer, as he held the couch for balance.

Your fingers wound into his shirt, dragging him closer and sealing his lips on yours. He pressed deeper, pressed into you, his knees digging into the couch as he settled over you. You hadn't think he'd be one to straddle you, or make out on the couch, but you weren't one to complain.

Not that you had the breath to speak, anyway.

His kisses ranged from light and sweet to desperate and needy in a line that quickly blurred. They were chaste and then _much more,_ but he always backed away, drew his lips from yours with quick breaths.

And then they were back, claiming your mouth again. Your head span. You were warm and hot and clinging to him, feeling nothing but him. The teasing way he pulled back had you leaning in for more. Following his lips with your own and causing him to gasp, to breathe a moan as you tugged him down for another deeper kiss.

The gaps between kisses faded as your hands wound around your neck. Your fingers ran through his hair, messing up his blond locks but all you wanted was to touch him more. To feel more. The hand he had pressed into the couch by your side drifted to your waist and then settled at your hip. His thumb hooked under your shirt brushing cool lines against your hip as he kissed you. As you kissed him. As everything blurred and became sloppy and desperate. The simple touch of his thumb became a brush of his hand, dragging cold fingers over your warm skin that made you gasp. The kiss broke into ragged breaths. You could barely breathe, barely keep your eyes open but he was the same. His eyes remained shut, pressed tightly closed. And he panted against your lips.

"U-Um…" he breathed, the croak of his voice sending a spear of searing heat through you.

Oh, this boy would be the death of you.

He leant forward, as if for more, but rested his forehead against yours. His fingers remained against your stomach, just resting, unmoving, before slowly retreating.

"Th-That was… um…" God. Now you couldn't speak. You swallowed thickly, feeding your fingers through his hair. It was soft. And smelt like your shampoo.

You loved him. You really, really loved him.

"Good," he said, _sighed_ , more like. "That was really, really good… heh." He ended it with a soft breath of laughter that coiled in your stomach.

"Y-Yeah…" So much for coherence.

He rose from your lap, his warmth leaving with him. You realised with a flush that you were the one who pulled him down so that he'd actually been sitting on you.

You swallowed again. "So much for the movie."

"Huh?" Yoosung jolted, eyes flicking from yours to the credits rolling up the TV. "O-Oh."

Now you laughed. The poor boy looked so dejected, as if he'd ruined your movie night. "We should do it again sometime."

He blinked at you, face still a burning, beet red.

"I'm not talking about the movie." You met his eyes, really, _really_ met his eyes, and drew your lips into a smile.

"O-Oh!" His face lit up, brightening into a smile. He grinned like a child with a toy, eyes shining and gleaming. He laughed, an embarrassed but happy chuckle. "I think so too."

* * *

 **;)**


	3. A Merry Christmas Eve

**A Merry Christmas Eve**

 **Written and Posted on Tumblr for Mystic Messenger Secret Santa 2016**

* * *

The smell of baking goods filled Yoosung's apartment as he pulled the freshly cooked Christmas cake from the oven. The hot tray swayed and tilted in his hands. He quickly deposited it onto the kitchen counter and drew a sigh of relief; even wearing oven mitts his fingers were at risk of burning.

"Mm…" the girl beside him inhaled the rich scent. "That smells good!"

Yoosung beamed a smile at her praise. It bloomed across his face with a flush he blamed on the heat of the oven, not the fact that her words always sent his heart aflutter. Not the fact that she was, most definitely, the love of his life.

Even if she didn't know that.

"Now, it just needs to cool and we can add the icing," she said, stirring the white icing in a large bowl. She swiped a bead of icing on her finger, drawing it to her mouth for a quick taste. Her tongue cleaned the sticky icing off her finger, before running over her lips to collect any remainder. Yoosung's eyes followed its path. He swallowed thickly and shot his gaze away, suddenly feeling warmer than before. Desperate to think of something, of anything else other than those supple, pink lips of hers, alluringly shiny with lip gloss, he reached for the icing bowl.

"Uh-uh!" she chided, and tugged the bowl out of his reach. "This is for the cake!"

Yoosung pouted as he eyed the bowl in her hands. She hugged it protectively in her arms, and turned her body slightly away from him.

"Ehh?" he whined. "You got to try some!" He stepped closer, reaching around her for the bowl.

She dodged with a quickly timed step. "That was a taste-test!"

"Let me taste-test too!" His lips drew further into a pout and he lunged for the bowl. She backed up, turning away in time to save the icing from his grasp, but making him hit the spoon instead. It flicked up from the bowl, splattering the white, sticky icing into the air, where it spectacularly plopped to the kitchen floor. All of it, that is, except for a glob on her cheek.

"Yoosung!" she huffed in exasperation. "Now look! It's all over the floor!"

"Sorry…" He shrunk as she sighed, though his eyes were glued to the icing on her cheek.

She hadn't noticed it. She was too busy mumbling, muttering about the icing, the floor, cleaning it…

An embarrassed, yet eager, grin pulled on Yoosung's face. Now was his chance. He snuck closer to her, one step, two, and reached his hand for her cheek. Her eyes fell on his. They widened, her lips parting in surprise, as his thumb dusted her cheek. Lightly, softly, it brushed across her cheek and collected the icing. He drew his thumb to his lips, keeping his eyes on hers, and licked the icing off.

Her cheeks bloomed a bright, bright cherry red and his composure shattered. A violent heat seared up his neck to his ears.

"S-Sorry!" he blurted, stammered, words stuck on his tongue. "Th-There was icing! On your cheek! So, I just–"

Her fingers touched where his had been, drawn to her cheek automatically in surprise. "Oh."

Their eyes, still locked together, held that shy gaze between them. A deafening silence draped over them, so quiet that Yoosung swore she could hear his heartbeat. It pounded heavily in his chest. It was all he could feel save for the sparks shooting through him, the fluttering in his chest.

"Sh-Should we remove the cake from its tin?" she asked, stammering over the first word. "For it to cool." She set the mixing bowl down a little too roughly, and shuffled around him to the cake tin. Yoosung caught a faint whiff of vanilla and something flowery as she brushed past.

He just nodded and dropped his gaze.

After rescuing the cake from its tin, the awkwardness in the air seemed to dissipate. The cake held together, set aside to cool, and filled the air with its warm, heavenly scent.

"I can't wait to try it," she said. "I've never made a Christmas cake before."

"Me neither," Yoosung admitted.

A small smile flittered to her lips. "What did you do last Christmas Eve?"

Yoosung's expression dropped. He sighed dejectedly and cupped his face in his hands. "It was awful! I made the mistake of going outside…"

She gave a dry, understanding laugh. "There were couple's everywhere, huh?"

Yoosung nodded and grumbled through his hands. "I've never felt so lonely! It was the worst!"

"Well, I'm here," she said, drawing Yoosung from his hands. "So, it's an improvement on last year!"

A tight blush made its home on Yoosung's cheeks. She was smiling up at him, brightly, caringly, in his kitchen, his apartment, on Christmas Eve. They were alone, the evening drawing to a close, Christmas drawing closer with every minute.

Of course this kind of situation would make him exited. Eager. _Nervous_.

He swallowed.

"If you _were_ dating someone," she asked, and drummed her fingers absently on the kitchen counter, "how would you spend Christmas Eve?"

"Oh!" her question jolted him from his thoughts. "I'd – uh – spend the day with them. Eating sweets and cooking Christmas cake–" _That was a mistake._ The hot flush doubled in intensity on his cheeks. "W-We'd go for walks and hold hands and…" Stop. Stop, stop, _stop._ "Y-You know, just couple things."

God. Could he have made it any more obvious?

He wished the kitchen floor would swallow him up right now.

"Hmm," she sounded, Yoosung feeling the very note in his chest. "That sounds really nice, actually." She peered out the window. _"Do_ you want to go for a walk?"

He froze. Her suggestion hung in the air. Was there a subtle hint in her words, or was that his mind talking? His mouth dropped open, clamped shut, and opened again.

"Y-Yes!" he chimed, possibly a little too quickly, possible a little too loud. "A walk would be nice."

Her smile brightened the room and dampened the anxiety coursing through him. "Great! Let me grab my jacket, then." She trotted over to the couch, where her jacket and bag lay. She tugged it on and met Yoosung by the front door with a smile. "Let's go."

The frosty outside air embraced them with a jolt. Their breaths plumed in the air as they headed down the street, following the flickering Christmas lights and glowing decorations. Despite being near midnight, the streets were far from empty. Yoosung let his gaze wander, following a couple holding hands in front of them. His fingers flexed by his side. Cold, numb, and empty.

He tugged the sleeves of his jacket down further.

"I've heard they've put up a huge Christmas tree nearby," she said, before exhaling a deep, puff of air. "Why don't we go see it?"

"Sure!" Yoosung chimed, dragging his eyes from the nearby couple. He hoped she hadn't seen him gazing off at them whimsically, longingly.

God. He hoped he didn't look desperate.

They headed off down the street as a Yoosung rubbed his hands together. He drew them to his face, exhaling hot air at his frosted fingers.

"Are your fingers cold?" she asked. She eyed him curiously, tilted her head on an angle that Yoosung could only find absolutely adorable.

He laughed awkwardly, wishing to hide his blush behind his hands. "Just a bit," he said. "My gloves have holes in them. I think Lisa liked them too much." He sighed. It was a mistake leaving his gloves out. His cat made a mess of them the instant they were in her sights.

"Do you want to use mine?" she asked and held up her hands, snuggly fit in two thick, woollen gloves.

"Then your hands will be cold!" Yoosung said, shaking his head.

"It's fine."

"No, it's not." He drew himself up, drew his hands from his face and to his sides. "I can't take your gloves. It's the guy who's supposed to share things." Not that they were dating. Not he minded the idea of sharing anything with her.

"Then, let's do this." She took off her left glove and held it out to him with a smile. "Put it on."

Curious, Yoosung took her glove and slipped it on his left hand. The instant his left hand was snug inside the glove, warm fingers entwined with his right. He jolted, the warmth spreading, coursing like lightning through his body. She'd taken his hand.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't see anything but her hand in his.

"There," she said with a smile. "Now we're both warm."

He wanted to scream and cry and disappear all at once. He was so happy, so elated, so obviously in love with her. No response found its way to his lips. No words fell on his tongue. He just nodded. Pretended that he wasn't focusing on the feel of her fingers in his. Pretended that he wasn't trying to imprint this memory into his mind.

He found it hard to focus on anything but her. Anything but how close they were walking, now hand-in-hand, among a sea of couples. Anyone who saw them would think they were dating. That's what they looked like. A couple.

He was too warm. His heart was pounding too hard. Fluttering in his chest, stammering whenever he felt a slight pull on his fingers as they walked. It was a dream come true. Walking with her, holding hands, on Christmas Eve. Almost as if… almost as if they were a real couple, and not just friends.

Not just friends.

"Wow!" she gasped in awe as they turned down the next street. Her eyes flew up the towering Christmas tree, covered in huge shiny baubles and sparkling lights. The street beneath it was littered with couples, admiring the lights, hugging, talking, laughing.

Kissing.

Yoosung found himself tugged along as she drew closer to the tree. He was more than content to watch her, to see the childish joy on her face, to see the way her eyes lit up as brightly as the Christmas lights. She turned to him with a smile, one that stole his breath away.

He was speechless.

Speechless and hopelessly in love.

Then, her hand was gone. She dug in her bag for something as Yoosung flexed his bare fingers, rubbed off the sweat awkwardly on his pants. He hoped his nervousness hadn't shown. He hoped the sweat didn't gross her out. Hoped she hadn't noticed, hoped that she would stay oblivious.

But, honestly, he hoped she would look at him. Really, really look at him.

He wished she would look at him the way she looked at the Christmas tree.

She pulled out a small, neatly wrapped present and held it out to Yoosung. He blinked down at it, up at her, then at the present.

"It's a bit early," she said, with an embarrassed smile. "But Merry Christmas, Yoosung."

"What? It's for me?" he gaped and accepted the present. It sat in his hands, solid, real, but he couldn't believe it. "Can… can I open it?"

She laughed. That sweet, short laugh that sent his heart soaring. Fluttering. "Of course."

Instead of wasting no time tearing into the wrapping paper, Yoosung peeled at the tape holding it together. He didn't want to destroy the precious, neat wrapping she'd gone to effort to put in place.

"You can just tear it open," she said with another laugh.

Yoosung flushed. "No, I won't. Not when you put so much work into it for me."

That made her pause. Her gaze dropped to her feet. "It… it's not that big of a deal…"

Slowly, finally, Yoosung managed to unwrap the present. It was a new computer mouse, sleek and black, made specifically for gamers. It had various buttons on the side for quick commands.

"I hope you like it," she said. "You said you were getting frustrated with your old mouse, so…"

"Y-Yes! I like it!" Yoosung blurted. "I really like it. I love it!" He flipped the box over in his hands, studying it, turning it, before beaming a smile up at her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is the best!"

She breathed a short sigh of relief. "That's great. I wasn't sure if you'd like it, or if you'd already gotten yourself a replacement, or if it was the wrong colour… they have it in red, too? Or blue? I think there are ones that light up as well–"

"It's perfect!" he cut off her rambling and shook his head. "And you got it for me. So, it, uh, makes me really happy."

"Right."

"I like it."

"Okay." She pursed her lips together, before they pulled up into a smile. "Merry Christmas, Yoosung," she said again.

"I – I have something for you, too," he said quickly. "But it's at home. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, or when you left…"

"Any time's fine," she said and shrugged. "I could… come by tomorrow and you can give it to me then, if you want."

"Tomorrow?"

She cast her eyes away for a breath. "Or when we get back. Either. I mean, if you're busy tomorrow…"

Tomorrow. Was… was this her way of inviting herself over? Did she _want_ to spend tomorrow with him?

"Tomorrow's fine!" Yoosung said quickly. "I can… I can give it to you tomorrow."

Through her nervousness, she smiled back at him. Whether it was the cold or her own embarrassment that dusted her cheeks red, or something more, Yoosung didn't care. His own were flaming red. And he knew that wasn't the cold.

She laughed, breathy and light, in the air of nerves around them. It drew a smile to his face, and then a chuckle, before they settled into a comfortable silence. Silence surrounded by noise, surrounded by couples.

Their eyes had met; Yoosung held her gaze. Something had lit aflame inside him. Something that had been building all day, building since the day they'd met in person. Since the day he'd heard her voice. It built and built until it was there on his tongue.

He would say it. Right now. Tell her everything he'd wanted to for such a long time.

"Um, y-you know," he coughed, cleared his throat. It was now or never. "I really, really li–"

Shouts of surprise, squeals of delight, swallowed his confession. Small beads of white fell around them, dancing, falling through the air. Yoosung looked back at her, to see her eyes drawing up, away from him, away from their moment.

"It's snowing!" she gasped. She held up her hands, one gloved, the other bare. Snowflakes dipped in the air and kissed her fingertips, dusted her hair. She twirled, catching the snowflakes, studying their paths through the air.

Yoosung clenched his fingers beside him. He held them tight, swallowed tight, then relaxed. He breathed a long, drawn out puff of air.

"It's going to be a white Christmas," Yoosung said. He grinned at her, she returned the smile. That was good enough for him. She was smiling. Happy. And he wanted her to stay that way.

He didn't want his confession to trouble her.

They talked, enjoyed the snowfall, under the tree for some time. Minutes passed like seconds in their laughter, in their conversation.

Soon, she held out her un-gloved hand to him. "Come on," she said. "Let's head back before we freeze."

"I'll… I'll walk you home," he said. "We can ice the Christmas cake tomorrow."

"Okay," she said.

Yoosung straightened, swallowed the jolt that coursed through him as he took her hand. Her fingers settled in his, and gave his a gentle squeeze. He pressed his lips together, fighting back a giddy smile, fighting the blush burning on his cheeks.

He returned the squeeze. A second passed, a few steps, then she squeezed his hand. He did the same. She laughed into her other hand, and bumped him lightly with her shoulder. He glanced at her curiously, to see her grinning. There was a spark in her eyes. A knowing spark, one of elation.

It sent his mind spinning. His heart fluttering.

God. He wouldn't be able to take more of this. And he didn't even know what he'd done!

Yoosung's phone chimed in his pocket, so he dug it out with his gloved hand. Struggling, he managed to input his pin code to see that Seven had sent a message.

Four words.

 _You'll thank me later._

A single winky-faced emoji ended the curious text. Yoosung frowned at it.

"Who's it from?" she asked as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

"Seven. Just another weird text."

She laughed. "Does he send you them often?"

"Always!" Yoosung groaned. "And he's always teasing me!"

"Like the chocolate milk incident?"

Another groan. "Don't remind me! I still have to get him back! I can't drink chocolate milk without feeling sick because of it!"

"You'll think of something," she said, giving his hand another squeeze.

He doubted that. Especially because his mind was trying to work through what Seven's text meant.

Slowly, they meandered through the streets, neither too desperate to cut their walk short. The night air was cool and calm, not cold enough to be of bother.

Truthfully, Yoosung didn't want this night to end. He didn't want to let go of her hand. He didn't want to say goodbye to her, even though he'd see her tomorrow. Even though they were always a phone call away.

He wanted her to stay. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to tell her everything.

But he'd already tried that once tonight, and that was enough. For now.

Too quickly for Yoosung's liking, they arrived outside her apartment. It wasn't too far from his, after she moved from Rika's place following the RFA party. They stepped up to the door. Her hand dropped from his.

Yoosung fumbled with her glove on his left hand. He tugged it off and handed it to her. "Thanks," he said, quieter than he wished.

She smiled. "Anytime." She fished her key from her handbag and unlocked the door with a click that fell flat in the silence. She pushed the door open a crack, revealing a sliver of darkness, before she paused. Her eyes flicked up, as if towards the roof, before she turned quickly to Yoosung.

"Thank you for tonight," she said. Her wide, grinning smile from before had faded into a gentle, albeit embarrassed, one. "I'll come over tomorrow? Around noon?"

Yoosung nodded. "Okay. I'll be looking forward to it. I get to eat Christmas cake with you." He smiled and breathed an embarrassed laugh.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

She looked up at him, pausing for a second, as if thoughts were ticking over in her mind, and smiled. With a quick step, she closed the gap between them. She rose on balls of her feet, suddenly close, so close, that her breath tickled his cheek. She pressed a curt kiss to his cheek and stepped back.

"Goodnight, Yoosung." She flashed a bright smile at him before disappearing into her apartment. Only when the door clicked shut behind her did Yoosung snap alert.

He staggered back a step. Two steps. Heat flushed his face, his neck, his ears. A hand cupped his face, felt the burning heat of his flush, touched the cheek she'd kissed.

 _Kissed._

 _She'd kissed him._

His heart thundered as if he'd been sprinting. His mind spun and spun and spun and all he could think of was the feel of her lips against his cheek. The sweet, vanilla scent that reached him as she stepped so close.

He backed up a final scent before something green caught his eyes above her door. There it sat, up high, at the very top of the door. A mistletoe.

That's what she'd seen. That's why she paused. That's why she kissed him.

Yoosung didn't know whether to be elated or dejected. He didn't know whether to curse Seven or praise him.

All he knew is that she'd kissed him. She'd held his hand. She'd spent Christmas Eve with him. And tomorrow, they'd spend Christmas together.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for him.

* * *

 **I love Yoosung so much. His ending on the christmas DLC gave me so many feels I didn't know what to do with them all.**


	4. A Very Merry Christmas

**Part two of A Merry Christmas Eve**

* * *

The insistent blaring of Yoosung's mobile was what woke him up. He fumbled for it, a lone hand scrambling for the device outside the cocoon of warmth that was his blankets. He snatched up the device, still ringing, and answered blindly.

"Mm… hello?" he mumbled sleepily, scrunching his eyes shut, barely lifting his head from the pillow to speak.

There was a snicker on the other end. "Yoosung? Did I wake you up?"

Hearing her voice was like having a bucket of cold water dumped over him and simultaneously being set on fire from within. He jolted awake instantly, almost dropping his phone.

"Yes? I-I mean no– I mean, I'm awake!" Yoosung cursed himself silently as he fumbled over his words. His face was aflame. He was unprepared to hear her voice so early, to hear her laugh in his ear through the phone. It had his heart fluttering in his chest and mind spinning. Why was she calling him so early?

Again, she laughed. It stole his breath to hear it so close yet being unable to see her. He could imagine her smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed… He sat on the edge of his bed, face flushed, as the cold winter air seeped into his skin. Her laugh had him warm right through.

"Did you forget? We were going to ice the Christmas cakes today?"

Yoosung froze as everything finally clicked into place. Yesterday hadn't just been a really good dream. She _had_ kissed his cheek. And she was coming over again. In fact… Yoosung checked the time and a spear of panic shot through him. It was already a ten fifteen… that meant…

"Wh-Where are you?" Yoosung asked quickly. His heart was pounding for a completely different reason. He'd slept in. After seeing her off last night, after she'd kissed his cheek, he hadn't been able to fall asleep. He'd tossed and turned in bed, reliving the moment in his mind. The warm press of her lips against his cheek. The soft, faint whiff of her perfume he caught as she moved away. The flush on her cheeks that matched his left him confused and wanting.

He hadn't been able to fall asleep for hours.

A sickening feeling in his gut had him already suspect it, but when she said it, his heart stopped. "I'm outside your apartment." A quick staccato of knocks on his door echoed through his house and through his phone.

He could have died on the spot. He'd just woken up. His hair was a mess – tussled from sleep and pasted to his forehead. He was in his pyjamas – warm flannelette pyjamas with cartoon penguins on them. He'd die of absolute embarrassment if she saw him like this.

"Uh– um, c-can I have a minute? I'm– uh– not dressed." His voice cracked as he switched his phone to speaker mode and scrambled to get changed. He heard her chuckle through the phone as he yanked his pyjama top over his head.

"Okay," she called. Her voice was light-hearted; not a thread of annoyance in it, but that didn't settle the unsteady rhythm of his heart. "I'm not going anywhere." She hung up with another laugh, and Yoosung began to get ready in earnest. There wasn't time to do his hair, so he just hurriedly ran a comb through it, and pulled on some jeans, the shirt hanging on the back of his computer chair, and his hoodie. He yanked the door to his bedroom shut as he bolted through it to the front door. He was breathless by the time he opened the door. If he hadn't been, the sight of her standing there would've stolen it anyway.

She was smiling up at him, cheeks pink from the cold winter air. She tugged down the fluffy scarf around her neck, revealing shiny red lips pursed in a smile. The same lips that had been pressed to his cheek the night before.

"Good morning Yoosung," she said cheerfully. There was a twinkle of mirth in her eyes. His heart staggered, struggling to find a steady rhythm under her gaze. She'd found his predicament amusing, and wasn't annoyed in the slightest that he'd left her outside in the cold.

"I'm so sorry!" Yoosung apologised, letting her into the warmth of his apartment. "I-I didn't forget, I just overslept…" He shut the door and resisted the urge to bang his head against it. "Could've sworn I set my alarms..." he muttered, pulling out his phone to check it.

He _had_ set alarms. Three of them, in fact. They stared back at him, as if laughing at his mistake. He'd set them to PM not AM.

He really wanted to knock himself out on the door right now.

"You haven't had breakfast, have you?" she asked as she shucked off her coat and scarf. She pulled of her gloves, one and then the other, and rubbed her hands together. "Phew! It was chilly out there!"

"Sorry…" Yoosung said softly, trying not to hang his head. His stomach grumbled at the idea of food, but all he wanted to do was duck to his room and properly fix his hair. He felt bare in front of her like this. He'd stolen a glance at his reflection in the mirror before he'd left his room and had grimaced. His blond hair stuck up in every direction, even after relentless combing. He itched to smooth it into place and clenched his hands by his side instead.

"It's all good," she said. "How 'bout I cook you some food? I did wake you up, after all."

"Oh, um, you don't have to!" Yoosung flustered. His stomach protested, as did every other part of him. "But… I'd… really like that." He couldn't hold back his smile. It was a giddy, stupid grin that had his cheeks pinking.

She smiled in return and clasped her hands together. "Perfect! I'll just help myself to your kitchen, then!"

He was going to swoon. She was a sight to behold in his kitchen, moving and cooking as if she belonged there. He hadn't realised just how _at home_ she was in his place. She knew where each and every cooking utensil was. She fished out a plate in the same movement as she shut the fridge with the back of her foot, cradling two eggs in her other hand.

All Yoosung could do was watch. And God, he wanted to watch. She pulled up her hair into a simple ponytail, leaving the end of it to sway behind her neck. Her neck that was now deliciously bare. And the sight of her in his apron had his breath catch in his throat.

He let himself imagine that, just for a moment, this is what it would be like if they were together. If she lived here. With him.

When she turned to him, full plate in hand, he was still staring. She laughed softly, shying under his gaze. "Yoosung, your face is red," she said, pressing her lips together to supress a smile.

"I-Is it?" Yoosung laughed nervously and took the plate from her. "I-It does feel a little warm in here." He was a little warm. No, a lot warm. And it wasn't the heater's fault. He tucked into the simple omelette she'd made him, mumbling an embarrassed thanks in between forkfuls. She made them both a cup of tea as he ate, and soon sat across from him.

It was then that he noticed the small silver pendant hanging from her neck. One he hadn't seen before. It looked to be a small silver dove, sitting just below her collarbones. She turned it between her fingers absently, and Yoosung glanced to the neatly wrapped present on the kitchen counter. His heart faltered in his chest.

"That's new…" Yoosung began slowly. She met his eyes and Yoosung swallowed, hoping there wasn't any food between his teeth. "Your necklace. I haven't seen it before."

She brightened, and gave the necklace a gentle tug. "Zen gave it to me," she said, and Yoosung's heart crashed. She dealt another blow as she continued, "It's a Christmas present. I saw him earlier today."

A Christmas present. It was a _present_. From _Zen_.

Yoosung's heart had stopped and all the blood that had rushed to his face earlier drained away. He felt impossibly stupid. For being so hopeful, for doing something so risky as buying her a necklace when he didn't even know if she'd like it or wear it and _Zen had beaten him to it._

 _Oh._ "It's nice," Yoosung forced himself to say. His throat had tightened, leaving his words strained. He quickly took another mouthful of omelette.

"Thank you," she said politely. "You know, Zen kept complaining that he was single again this Christmas." She laughed. "As if we aren't all single. And then there's that movie that just came out, the romantic drama. It's the kind of thing you can't go to alone."

Yoosung was having a hard time paying attention. All he heard was _Zen_ and his fingers clenched around his fork. His stomach had dropped, and his appetite had fled. A chunk of the omelette she'd made for him slipped off his fork. He stared down at it, torn between wanting to eat it and the heavy sick feeling in his gut.

He forced himself to eat.

When he'd finished, she swiped the plate up and made for the kitchen. Yoosung stood from his chair and protested. "I'll wash it up," he said, following after her. "You cooked for me, after all."

She ignored him, adding the plate to the pile of dishes in the sink that she'd used to cook. She plugged the sink, swirled detergent over the dishes, and gave him a smile. "How about I wash up and you dry?" She turned the tap, running her hand beneath the water as the temperature rose. Yoosung found the temperature in his face rising too. He grabbed a tea towel and rung it in his hands.

It was almost like they were a couple. It was so domestic, this scene, watching her wash up his dishes in his house, humming away as if he wasn't staring at her…

This was bad for his heart. He fumbled with the plate when she handed it to him, their fingers almost brushing, and he could've dropped it.

Focus, he told himself. He never knew how difficult it could be to dry a simple plate. It was impossibly hard to focus with her standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Especially after last night.

He tried not to think about it. Not when she was here, not when it would turn his face a bright red. Although, just having her here had him flushed. He wasn't sure it would make much of a difference.

"Have you ever had a friend complain to you over Christmas?" she asked, washing up the frying pan she'd used earlier. She turned it over in her hand, checking for food, before giving it a rinse and passing it to Yoosung. "About being single or having nothing to do, or something?"

Yoosung almost sighed. "Yeah, one of my friends kept complaining that he didn't have a date for Christmas. He kept asking me if I knew any girls who were free…"

"Hmm…" she hummed, the corner of her mouth quirking in a smile. "If he wants a date so badly… how about me?" She glanced at him, saw his eyes widen in shock, mouth dropping open. He almost dropped the frying pan.

"You… you're looking for a date?" His voice faltered. He gripped the frying pan harder until his knuckles turned weight. His fingers were irritable. He felt itchy. Like there was an itch he couldn't scratch, couldn't ease. There was a twinkle in her eyes that sent his heart flustering. The last thing he wanted to do was set her up with his friend.

"Um… then uh, if you're interested in going on a date…" He didn't know what he was saying. The words tumbled out one after another, even as his face became enflamed, even as his words faltered and he struggled to steady his voice. "…Then how about me?" He met her eyes now, trying to swallow the heat behind his. She blinked at him in silence, the sound of running water filling the room. Something must have been wrong with him because he added, "I'm not really interested in going on a date… but I am interested in you?"

She dropped the metal spoon into the sink. It clanged loudly, jolting them both out of their stupor. She fumbled for it, hands diving into the hot water.

Yoosung couldn't breathe. "J-Just kidding!" he blurted, and furiously dried the frying pan. He rubbed and rubbed and rubbed away at the pan as if he could erase what he'd said by doing so. "I was just kidding," he repeated, forcing a laugh.

She rinsed off the spoon, not looking at him. "Do you want to?"

He paused and looked over at her. She was staring down at the spoon as if it had all the answers in the world.

"Go on a date," she continued. "With me."

Now he really couldn't breathe. He hadn't heard her right. There's no way she just said that. "What?"

She met his eyes now and his heart jumped. She was smiling shyly, the twinkle of jest in her eyes having faded. "That movie that just came out," she said. "The romantic drama I mentioned earlier. Do you want to see it?"

"With you?"

 _Of course_ with her. The answer was obvious but his mind was spinning. He had no idea how her asking for a date with his friend ended up like this. Maybe she just wanted a date? But the look in her eyes earlier was different and his heart was running away from him.

She tore her eyes away, handing over the spoon blindly. He took it and began drying it slowly. "Yeah. Zen asked if I would go see it with him but I was seeing you today, so…" Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised her eyes back to his. He'd never seen her so shy, so unsure of herself. It had his heart thrumming, feeling a surge of _what ifs_ and possibilities rush through him. "It's the kind of movie I'd rather see with you," she said, laughing softly.

"O-Okay!" his reply stole from his mouth before he could think. But he didn't need to when it came to her. "I want to go. With you." The room felt impossibly warm. He swallowed, finding his mouth dry. "T-To the movie. I want to go to the movie with you."

Her smile stole his heart. It didn't matter that he was at a loss for words. She could take his breath away, steal his thoughts and the words right out of his mouth and he wouldn't care.

"Okay," she said. Her smile was slight, yet it the effect it had on him was all the same. "We'd better get to icing those cakes then."

"Oh! Right!" That's what she'd originally come here to do. Ice the cakes. Right. "How long do we have? I mean – when's it start? The movie?"

God. He was still fumbling over his words. He needed to pause and breathe and do a reality check. Was he dreaming? It felt like he was dreaming.

She just laughed. "It's got showings all day. We've got time."

That slowed him down. They had time. He softened, feeling his nerves ease, feeling the erratic pace of his heart relax. That's all that he wanted. Time. With her.

For some reason, he felt like she wanted the same.

It didn't take long for them to ice the cakes, and they were soon headed out the door. She stepped out before him and just as Yoosung went to leave, he had a second thought. He snatched the present off the kitchen counter and stuffed it in his pockets. If the moment presented itself, he would give it to her. He swallowed that thought and stepped outside.

It was a brisk walk to the cinema but they took their time. The sun was out, the air cool and crisp, their breaths pluming in the air. They walked side-by-side, and Yoosung wished he had an excuse to hold her hand again. It wasn't cold enough to use the excuse that he didn't have any gloves. Although, thinking back, that had been her idea.

He warmed at that thought. Maybe he did have a chance after all. She'd turned down Zen's offer to be with him.

That's just because she'd already planned to be with you, Yoosung argued with himself.

Although, she did say this was the kind of movie she'd rather see with him…

Yoosung grimaced at the thought of seeing a romance movie with Zen. He'd probably gloat and boast about how he was more handsome than the lead, or spout cheesier lines… Yoosung didn't blame her for wanting to see it with someone else.

And yet, she'd chosen him.

Even if he was just a replacement or someone to pass time with, he didn't mind.

Their walk to the cinema took longer than it needed, neither wanting to rush. It was fine to take things slow. They had all day.

The cinema was busy when they got there. It was bustling with people, smelling thickly of popcorn. Yoosung watched her take a huge breath in and sigh, relishing the scent. She laughed sheepishly when she caught him watching.

"What? I love the smell of popcorn!" she exclaimed, grinning at him. "Let's share some, okay?"

He didn't have to think about that and agreed vehemently. This was turning out to be a better Christmas than he'd ever imagined.

They queued up for tickets amongst families and couples. The family behind them had two small children who kept playing and swinging on the guide ropes separating the queue. Yoosung saw it coming too late and the youngest bumped into her before he could say anything. She apologised, thought it wasn't her fault, and stepped closer to him. He held his breath automatically.

She was so close that when he drew a short breath in, he caught a whiff of her shampoo over the scent of popcorn. He could see each of her eyelashes and the thin line of black eyeliner she'd applied. His heart was racing. He only hoped she wouldn't notice it, for it was all he could hear. His eyes drifted to her mouth, to those plump, shiny lips of hers.

It was only now that he really realised that she'd done herself up a little. Her eyelashes were thicker and fuller than usual. Her eyelids sparkled when she blinked, and the shade of her lips was the exact same as the mark she'd left on him last night. And they were so close it wouldn't take much to lean in and steal that colour from her lips.

Now, Yoosung wasn't naïve or conceited enough to actually think that she'd dolled herself up for him but just the sheer possibility had him flushed with heat. His mind was too busy spinning that he didn't notice the gap in the queue in front of them until she took his hand and drew him forward.

He almost protested when she dropped her hand away.

Yoosung – _somehow_ – managed to get himself collected enough by the time they reached the counter. He ordered their tickets and popcorn, large enough to share, and took out his card to pay. She stood by his side the whole time. When she'd approached the counter with him, Yoosung knew how it must look to everyone. They'd think they were a couple. Together. In love.

The idea made him giddy.

Then, there was an angry beep.

"I'm sorry," the cashier said. "It looks like your card declined."

Yoosung's heart stopped. The blood drained from his face as he stared at the machine, his card, the big letters that read DECLINED.

"L-Let me try again," Yoosung said, taking back his card and swiping again. He input his pin slower this time, making sure he pressed every button hard enough. The seconds passed and, sure enough, that horrible beep sounded again.

DECLINED, the machine read.

Yoosung's face flushed. The queue bustled behind him, louder than ever. The room was louder than ever. He burned under the eyes of the cashier, under her eyes, under the eyes of everyone in the room. His throat clamped as the seconds ticked by. He stole back his card, fumbled with his wallet.

 _He didn't have enough money._

The cashier was staring. The people in line were staring. The popcorn sitting on the counter was staring.

A hand moved in front of him. A card swiped, the machine processed, and it cleared. Yoosung looked to her and she smiled gently.

"It's all right," she said, and her voice could've calmed even the most turbulent storms. "You can treat me next time." She took the tickets, handed them to him, and collected the popcorn. She turned and walked off, leaving him to catch up. When he did, the apology fumbled from his mouth.

"I-I'm sorry! I thought I had enough, I must've…" he shook his head, dumbfounded, embarrassed. His face was still burning. That had never happened to him before. He could still hear the angry beep from the machine ringing in his ears.

"It's all right," she said. She was calm, solid, a lifeboat in the crash of nerves that had consumed him. "It's happened to me before. I had to apologise and leave my shopping at the counter! I was so embarrassed." She laughed at herself and Yoosung found it easier to breathe. It seemed easier with her. Everything did.

She didn't know just how soothing she was to him.

Even though the embarrassment of what happened followed him into the cinema, he was able to brush it from the front of his mind as he sat beside her. Unsurprisingly, the cinema was packed. Mostly with couples, both young and old. To everyone else, that's what they looked like. A couple. This thought raced in his mind again and again. The present in his pocket felt heavier, alive and buzzing. He wanted to give it to her. Not now, but soon.

He would give it to her. Even if she chose not to wear it. Even if she didn't like it, or preferred the one Zen had given her. He didn't care. He just wanted to give it to her.

No.

He wanted to _tell_ her.

"Yoosung?" Her voice snapped him from his thoughts and he jolted in his chair.

"Y-Yes?" he stammered, looking to her to see her offering him the popcorn. She laughed at him briefly and took a handful for herself.

"Have some," she said, not hiding the smirk on her face. "Or I'll eat it all."

He felt bad eating it when she'd paid for it and the movie. "But you paid for it."

She bumped his shoulder, the contact lighting his skin on fire beneath his hoodie. "You'll just have to treat me next time," she said again.

Next time.

If this continued, he was really going to get conceited. The way she was talking, the way she was acting… he really wanted to believe he had a chance.

They chatted until the trailers began and even through it. Only when the movie started in earnest did they quieten but still, Yoosung felt hyper aware that she was beside him. Every movement she made, he caught in the corner of his eyes. Every time she reached for popcorn, every gasp and laugh she made. It was clichéd but more than once their fingers brushed when they reached for popcorn at the same time.

And Yoosung hadn't even done it on purpose.

But he did sit closer to her. He didn't let himself take their shared armrest, but neither did she. He just sat as close to it as he could, as close to her as he could with it in between them.

He was surprised, at the end, to find that he could even pay attention to the movie with her right beside him. He enjoyed it and they came out chatting and laughing about it, even griping about the male lead at times. The embarrassment of Yoosung's card declining was forgotten as they felt the cinema. They stood outside in the chill, neither really wanting to leave.

"What do you want to do now?" she asked, taking in a deep breath of frosty air. She exhaled it into her gloved fingers, catching the plume as if it were tangible.

What did he want to do?

More, he thought, but he was at a loss for ideas. "We could… go for a walk?" He grimaced as he said it. Out of all the things he could have offered, he'd said _that._ What was worse, was that they'd gone for a walk last night. Now he was sounding repetitive and boring and he wanted to crawl into a hole.

But she laughed and said, "Okay," and the day felt a little warmer.

Things really were easier with her.

They headed for a park nearby and with every step they took, the present in Yoosung's pocket got heavier. He kept touching it, feeling for it, hands in his pockets as if he was just acting casual but the nerves buzzing inside him were anything but. It didn't help that the park was empty and quiet and he had all the opportunities in the world to give the gift to her.

But he didn't. Now that he thought about it, he was frightened. The present had turned into a weight in his pocket. A heavy weight that scared him. If he gave it to her, if he told her how he felt, how would she react?

How would he react if she rejected him?

Would this be the last of their walks?

But then she smiled at him, a light pink dusting his cheeks, and his fingers tightened around the small present. There was a surge of courage, the words forming in his mouth before he could think. He drew out the present, her eyes going to it, and she promptly fell from his view.

He heard the _crack_ of her hitting the ground and flinched, before realising what had happened. She'd fallen to her knees, holding her ankle and hissing through her teeth. The patch of ice beneath her glistened in the sun.

"A-Are you okay?!" Yoosung asked, crouching before her. The wet snow soaked into his jeans as he knelt on it but it was the least of his worries at that point. He stuffed the present back into his pocket and looked her all over.

She laughed dryly and stretched her leg out before her. "Think I twisted my ankle," she said through her teeth. "I've done it before. Guess that's what I get for not looking where I'm walking." She laughed again but it only made Yoosung's heart drop. He'd stolen her attention. That's why she'd slipped. But she was laughing at herself.

"Can you stand?" Yoosung offered her a hand. She took it and he gently pulled her to her feet. She leant on him, her injured foot hanging above the ground. She glanced around, spying a wooden bench not far from them.

"I just need to sit down for a moment," she said, nodding towards the bench. It took a few agonising hops to get there, her leaning on him all the time, before she flopped down on the frozen bench.

She elevated her foot on the bench. "At least there's no shortage of ice," she mused dryly.

Yoosung looked from her to her ankle, hands hanging loosely by his sides and felt useless. He clenched and unclenched his hands and dithered on the spot. "Wh-What… what should I do? Do you need ice? Or crutches? Or a wheelchair? Or–"

"It's all right, Yoosung," she said. "Calm down. It's not that big of a deal."

Yoosung didn't know how it couldn't be a big deal considering she'd twisted her ankle. Wouldn't it swell? And hurt? Would she be able to walk on it? He didn't know.

He'd never dealt with this before.

"Thanks for being concerned," she said. "I've sprained my ankle before. It doesn't feel too bad this time." She rolled her ankle as if to prove it, but winced in the process. "I'll get someone to pick me up." She glanced up at him as he nodded slowly, and pulled out her phone. She stared at it for a moment, a furrow forming on her brow, before she stuffed it away. "On second thought, can you help me walk? We'll head back to your place."

"Are you sure? Won't it hurt? Maybe you shouldn't walk?"

She waved his concerned away with a flick of her hand, and swung her legs off the bench. "It'll be fine. I just remembered that my roommate's busy today. _With her boyfriend._ " She huffed and stood, only placing weight on her uninjured foot, and took hold of Yoosung's shoulders.

Yoosung almost stiffened at how close she was before he caught the sour look on her face. "Are you annoyed at your friend?"

She sighed and slung an arm around his shoulder. "Just a bit," she said, though her words didn't match her gruff tone. "She said we'd hang out tonight but, _at the last minute_ , decided to go out with her boyfriend. We'd planned a movie night and everything too…" Her face fell, lips curling into a pout. "We were going to marathon Star Wars. Can't believe she'd ditch me for _him._ On _Christmas."_

Yoosung nodded blankly. He didn't know how to respond, or even if he'd be able to form the words, with her so close to him. Her arm was over his shoulder, his arm around her waist. This was the closest they'd been save for when she'd kissed his cheek or hugged him, but this was an entirely different kind of closeness. He was in for the long haul here, helping her back to his apartment.

And it was a torturously slow journey. She could only move forward one hop at time, using Yoosung like a single crutch. Her injured foot swung loosely above the ground but he could tell it irritated her. She sucked in tight, sharp breaths and would wince every few steps.

By the time they got to his apartment she was so grateful she hopped over to the couch and threw herself on it without Yoosung's help. On her instructions he brought over an icepack, wrapped it in a tea towel and placed it on her ankle. It was obviously swelling now, red and puffy and growing in size. She sucked in a breath through her teeth when the icepack touched her foot.

"Thanks, Yoosung," she said, giving him a tight smile. "Sorry I ruined our walk."

"No, no, you didn't ruin it!" Yoosung said hurriedly. "It was my fault. I distracted you."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have gotten distracted, so I guess it's neither of our faults. Or something." She sighed. "Don't blame yourself. It's my stupid ankles fault anyway."

Yoosung fell silent. He couldn't stand the hurt on her face. He wanted anything to see her smile, to see her laugh again… and he found himself reaching into his pocket. He took out the present and decided enough was enough. He held it out to her, the wrapping crinkling beneath his fingers. "Here," he said. "Merry Christmas."

Her eyes widened. She looked between the gift and him, before snatching it and smiling brightly. The haze gone from her eyes, she tore into the wrapping and revealed a shiny necklace beneath. It was a five-pointed star studded in small, sparkly clear gems that glistened in the light. They spun an array of colours when she turned it in her hand.

"Oh my god, Yoosung, it's gorgeous!" she gaped at it, the small star barely larger than a coin. "Thank you so much!" she beamed, unable to contain her smile. She immediately reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace Zen had given her. Yoosung watched it fall from her neck and replace it with the one he'd given her. It sat perfectly beneath her collarbones, still sparkling in the light. She thumbed it gently, still smiling.

"It's so beautiful," she said again. She tucked Zen's necklace into her purse, out of sight, and now out of Yoosung's mind.

Not as beautiful as you, he thought.

Her eyes widened, a bright flush colouring her cheeks. She tore her eyes away and he realised that he'd said it aloud. "U-Um, I mean, i-it is beautiful. That's why I got it. It's shiny. Like you– n-not like you– I mean, not that you're shiny– no, I mean–" his tongue was running him in circles. He flushed darkly and decided it was better to just leave it at that, clamping his mouth shut.

She laughed and he could've died on the spot from the sound. "Thank you," she said again. "I love it."

"I love you," he said.

The words just came tumbling out but he didn't care. He said it again when her eyes widened even more than before.

"I love you."

He stood before her now, cheeks burning, burning red but he didn't want to be anywhere else.

"Y-Yoosung…" his name sounded so small at that moment. So soft, so gentle, his heartbeat almost drowning it out.

"I wanted to tell you for so long," Yoosung said. He wasn't going to stop now. He was going to tell her everything even if she didn't want him to, even if she said no. "But I was so unsure, so scared that you'd say no, that you liked someone more than me, maybe Zen or Seven or – or Jumin but I don't care anymore. I love you." The words were easier to say now. More natural, as if they'd been meant to say all along.

"I was going to tell you last night but I didn't want to ruin anything. I just loved being with you, talking to you, you make everything easier. You make me laugh, you make my day brighter and you make me want to be a better person." These words just kept tumbling out even as he forgot to breathe and stole a ragged breath. There was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to tell her. "I want to be someone you can rely, someone you come to when you need help or when… when you sprain your ankle…" he flushed now, realising he was derailing himself. She just stared at him, wide-eyed, mouth agape, cheeks flushed.

"I decided not to tell you because I wanted to stay as we were. But then you kissed my cheek and I thought that maybe there could be something more, maybe you thought of me the way I think of you and I couldn't sleep last night because of it." He took a long, deep breath now and calmed himself, calmed his erratic heartbeat and forced himself to meet her gaze, even as her heated eyes bored into him. "I love you. Is it selfish for me to want you to feel the same?"

"No," she said immediately. It came out softly, barely a gasp. "No, it's not. I-I love you too." She flushed and laughed nervously. "I may not have a lot to say or – or thought about this so much, but I love you. I know that."

"R-Really?" He stepped towards her now, as she lay on the couch and knelt before her. "Really?"

She stole her eyes from his, nodding slowly. "Yes."

He laughed softly, unbelievably. "Really?"

She snapped her eyes to his, their flushed cheeks matching now. "Yes! I love you, Yoosung. You, and no one else!"

He embraced her without thinking. Hugged her tightly to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders like he'd always wanted to. And she hugged him back. Slowly, warmly, as if they never wanted to part. She sighed against his neck as she nuzzled into him. She was soft and warm and he let himself breathe her in, trying to memorise the feel of her against him.

"You know…" she began softly, pulling away ever-so-slightly. Their faces were inches apart, arms still around each other. "Yesterday, I almost kissed you properly."

Yoosung felt dizzy. Dizzy from her, from what she was saying. He glanced to her lips, searching her eyes questioningly, searching for any doubt and only finding want. "Really?"

"Yes," she said, drawing closer to him. "More than once."

And she kissed him. Properly, fully, completely. Their lips melded together and he was soaring. His heart fluttered with every movement, every press of their lips together as they sought each other out. It was new and strange and a bit messy but neither cared. They were closer than they had ever been and it was perfect. Even as it tasted of popcorn and salt and spit, even as their teeth clacked and they winced. She laughed and then he laughed, their lips meeting again and again and again.

They had all the time in the world and they were going to use it.

* * *

 **ANYONE ELSE HAD THEIR CARD DECLINED AND EVERYONE STARE AT THEM? LEMME TELL YOU ITS THE WORST**

 **anyway I love yoosung and just had to write a continuation of A Merry Christmas Eve.**


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